


Yield to Temptation

by KuriKoer



Category: Avengers, Loki - Fandom, Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Banter, Cheerleaders, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, First Time, Loki POV, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Shame, Slapping, Threesome, cheerleader costume, cheerleader fetish, learning about midgard, sex positive people, unintentional crossdressing, watching porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKoer/pseuds/KuriKoer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bare Loki skin + fetishwear = Tony and Steve being stupid. They are only human after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yield to Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Loki has a normal weight here, mkay  
> Also: thanks again, thimpressionist

This proud son of an ancient race would bow his head to no man. Loki would not be humiliated by the snickers of pathetic mortals.

"No, I mean, I love it, don't get me wrong, I love it." Stark was babbling, as was his custom, gesturing and lively, but Loki could hear his breath hitching, could see his eyes wandering.

"Um, yeah, I like it too." Banner, nodding, all man now and the beast not in sight. His glasses were getting a little foggy and he took them off, turning to clean them, facing away from Loki. The god was unsure of how to read the tense line of his back, but the others did not seem to fear that the creature's appearance was imminent, and so he let his suspicions rest a while.

Captain America seemed to be at a loss for words. He was only staring, mouth slightly open, but Loki could read no contempt in his gaze. Come to think of it, despite his expectations, he saw contempt in no-one's gaze.

"Nice legs," was the laconic comment from the red-haired witch. When she met his eyes, Loki was taken aback by the uncustomary near-warmth he found there.

The tunic covered him to his mid-thighs; it was in colours that he'd always admired, green and gold and black; it lacked somewhat in the kind of brass and steel and tough leather that he often appreciated, but it was meant to be a garment worn indoors, comfortable, easy clothing for the unseasonable heatwave that washed across the Midgardian Eastern Seaboard, whatever that was. Loki only knew that even in Stark's artificially cooled abode - and wasn't it magic, which allowed such a cool breeze when outside the sun blistered and raged? - but even here, when standing by the vast glass-paned windows, the heat was harsh on his skin. And so he found this garment and took it for his own, not asking of course, for despite his imprisonment here he was a king still in his heart if nowhere else, and all was his for the taking. Except for the cars. Stark had been very clear on that.

There had been no breeches to go with the tunic, but it covered everything that Midgard considered unseemly or indecent, at the very least, and although Loki felt exposed, he knew now that very little on this planet could harm him. He walked confidently into the parlour, where several of the others were sitting, and he was not quite prepared for their extreme, some would say disproportionate, reaction.

There was laughter. Oh, how Loki hated laughter. There were gasps. Captain America rose from his seat at an alarming speed, but then remained standing as if rooted to the spot; Banner, who was already standing when Loki arrived, stumbled over his own feet; Stark dropped a screwdriver he was holding in his hand and didn't seem to notice. Even the Widow inhaled sharply, her fine nose twitching. Loki held his head high.

But they all seemed to recover their composure within a few moments, to a degree at least, for Captain America sat back down again but still hadn't spoken, and Stark still hadn't reached for his fallen tool. He was however quickly recovering his speech.

"Where... did you get this?" He motioned up and down at Loki's form.

Loki scowled. "A closet."

There was an undignified snort from Banner, who still had his back turned, but clearly had control over himself. It would be rather visible if he hadn't.

"It had with it some sort of... ceremonial straw things, and banners," Loki added. Captain America looked as if he had trouble breathing, for all that his mouth was gaping open.

"They're called pom-poms," Stark remarked distractedly, eyes still fixed on the lower part of the garment, which was ridiculous. The man had to have known he owned this, it was in his bed chambers, for Borr's sake!

"I don't care. It's comfortable," Loki snapped, squaring his shoulders and marching to the sofa, where he sat with his customary grace and fixed his glare upon the television. He did feel an urge to keep his legs modestly together, for a more vulnerable, confident position may not be fitting with the tunic riding as high as it did.

"Looks comfortable," Stark agreed, and the rictus, rigid expression on his face melted into his usual expressive grin. "Looks... airy."

Loki felt his face heat up, for Stark's intent was clear. The pleasantness of cooling his private parts was one of the reasons he'd chosen the tunic; he detested sweat, the distasteful, overly warm way in which it gathered between his legs and under his armour. He was not sure how comfortable he was with the way the bearded man leered at him.

"Want a drink?" Stark said, and as he had the first time he'd offered Loki one, he didn't wait for an answer, rather walking directly to his cabinets and removing a bottle and two glasses.

The Black Widow seemed almost taken aback by this, and Loki wondered why. He had been living in this tower for a while now, and their wealth of viands had always been available to him. The Avengers may not have treated Loki like royalty, but at the very least they did not starve their prisoners.

"Really, Stark?" the woman said coolly. "Pavlov should've run tests on you."

That meant nothing to Loki. The Widow was shaking her head at Stark's sudden amiable hospitality, as if it was not his usual conduct to offer his alcohol to visitors and residents alike. Perhaps Stark was trying to make amends for his laughter, though Loki doubted that greatly. He should be cautious. Stark was still eyeing him strangely.

He stretched his legs, defiantly making himself comfortable, and noticed Stark's hand turning somewhat unsteady for a brief moment, splashing the drink in his glass and almost spilling it.

Behind him, the giant, hidden in an illusion of a compact body - so like himself - started shuffling uneasily.

"I think I should go before this gets too interesting," he said, making good on his words and heading towards the exit. The assassin nodded her fiery head once in agreement, and followed him. Loki saw them from the corner of his eye, keeping his gaze on Stark. The man glanced over to the Captain, as if to see if he would follow suit.

He didn't. In fact, he hadn't moved yet since he slumped back into his seat, and he hadn't said a word. After a long moment, Stark shrugged and returned to the sitting area, balancing a small tray carrying three glasses and a bottle.

"So," he said. Loki waited, raising an eyebrow.

Captain America worked his jaw. He leaned forward and took the glass, although Loki knew it would bring him no comfort. It would take Asgardian mead to get this serious faced soldier to loosen his collar and his burden, Loki thought with almost pity.

Stark continued talking, as he often did when others were silent around him. "You really make it work though, you know? Classic. Debbie Does Dallas. Loki Lays Los Angeles. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you."

Loki didn't bother to dignify that with a response.

"Either one of you," Stark said with a sigh. He glanced at the Captain again.

The broad man reached for the coffee table again and picked up the small magic wand that controlled the television. "I might," he said evenly, the first words he spoke since Loki had entered. He fumbled with the buttons, the images on the screen changing, until he found what he was looking for.

There was a small, man-made meadow, surrounded on all four sides by a crowd chanting what sounded like battle cries. There was a group of women wearing tunics somewhat similar to the one Loki was wearing, though in different colours, practicing what appeared to be a strange ritualistic dance. As they performed their acrobatic rites, leaping around each other and carrying those balls of straw that matched their clothes, a dozen or so men rushed to the fore, adorned with helmets and some kind of battlewear. Loki eyed their inflated shoulders and protective gear critically.

"Those are..."

"Cheerleaders," Stark supplied the term.

"And they are exalting the warriors?" Loki inquired.

"Uh, yeah. With pom-poms."

Loki nodded and kept watching. The maidens all seemed healthy and fit. Although the event was clearly centred around the warriors preparing for battle, the image kept returning to the women, showing them dance, jump, and shout, as if encouraging berserkers. It was a curious thing. Loki watched the screen, and Captain America and Stark watched him.

Then Stark shook his head, as if waking from a momentary daydream. "JARVIS," he called out.

"Yes, sir?" came the quick and mannered reply. Loki only wished flesh-and-blood servants would be so docile, so accommodating.

"Pull up on screen, uh," Stark paused, considering, "Naughty Cheerleader Orgy. Start at fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir." The image on the screen immediately changed. It was somewhere indoors, somewhere with benches and rows of narrow metal doors that reminded Loki of the training rooms in this very building, which he'd used for entertainment and sparring. Except there were several women here, wearing something that did not quite look like his tunic, but was clearly trying to imitate the clothes worn by the women on the sporting field. Only smaller. And much of the clothes were not quite on the women's bodies. And they were engaged in visually pleasing intimate acts. Loki tilted his head.

Captain America covered his eyes.

"They're wearing red, white, and blue," he said in a choked voice.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Stark said, not sounding sorry in the least. The high pitched moaning from the screen became louder. Exaggerated, Loki thought. There was something exaggerated about everything. Like the colour on their mouths and cheeks, more war paint than the delicate colours he'd seen on the Midgardian women he'd met. And the sex was not like sex; it was almost ritualized.

He turned an inquisitive gaze at Stark. "They are... symbols of fertility, for the warriors?"

Stark stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Fertility. Sure. There's a bareback scene, after all."

Loki narrowed his eyes, unsure of Stark's meaning.

Stark nodded, understanding. "You probably don't know what bareback is, do you? It's not the one with saddles. Different kind of bareback. Listen, now that I brought that up, was that thing with the horse true?"

Loki felt his temper rising. "Enough," He growled. He glanced at the screen; now there was a man in the room. Now there were two. "You had this ceremonial robe in your rooms, Tony Stark. I did not know it was reserved for such use. I doubt you would recognise Asgardian robes dedicated to seidr if you saw them," he sneered.

"Yeah, but I bet your helmet would work great in porn," Stark was quick to reply. "Something to hold onto, if you know what I mean."

Sinking deeper into his chair, the Captain let out a choked groan.

Loki stood up. "I have seen you wear less than this, and yet your friends did not mock you, and only your lady protested the obscenity."

Stark tilted his head, as if trying to recollect. "Was that the time Pepper told me to put on pants?" he asked. "Because no one else cares when I'm in boxers. It's great living with you guys, it's like college. Except I'm living with people, which I didn't in college, and also I drink less. Also because of Pepper. Thing is," he relaxed back in his chair, looking up at Loki and leering again, "I did do cheerleaders in college. I mean, I have after college, too, but not in a long time."

Loki looked at the television. Several pretend-warriors, some still wearing their protective headgear, were enacting and consummating fertility rites with the women in the tiny outfits. He felt his blood warm, his skin prickle. It _had_ been a long time, for him as well. He glanced at the Captain; the man had his wide, near terrified eyes locked onto Loki's, pleading quietly, for what, Loki knew not.

"It's a tunic," he said, unsure.

"Sure it is," Stark was quick to agree. "Totally a tunic, not at all a dress. Mind if I stand closer to you?"

He already was. Loki stood stiff, proud, a cold facade hiding the turmoil within.

"Mind if I touch you?" Stark said, quieter, eyes earnest and catching Loki's.

Loki had expected him to already do it, to take what he wanted from his prisoner, a man at his mercy; but Stark's hands only hovered, desire etched in his every feature and yet held back at bay with what Loki had to assume was a great will. Although the Avengers could not best him physically, not even with his magic as damped down as it was, a crueller jailer would manipulate and extort obedience, forcing Loki to bow to their will by the mere fact he was under their roof, fed and clothed by their mercy alone. Yet the Midgardians never did. Weak, foolish things. Loki could smell Stark's arousal, could see the open need on the Captain's face, and still not a finger was laid unwanted upon his flesh.

"Yes," he allowed, deciding, and immediately Stark was caressing his legs, running his hands up Loki's thighs and under his tunic, fingers searching and finding the garment he wore beneath, hooking under the elastic and pulling it down, over his suddenly-interested cock and lower. Stark was tilting his head up. Was he waiting for something? Loki's eyes widened. Was Stark expecting a kiss?

He was, clearly. While one hand cupped Loki underneath the fabric, another went up and around his neck, pulling him down, and Stark's mouth was on his, hot and pliant and demanding all at once.

There was the sound of harsh breathing, his own, Stark's next to his, breath hot against his lips, and not far to their side, Captain America, standing once more, and Loki glanced sideways and saw his wide chest expand with his panting. Behind them, on the screen, at least a dozen people were engaged in a snake pit of limber, glistening limbs, crawling and swelling and slithering, wet and hard and Loki moaned deep in his throat, letting Stark's hand map his flesh underneath the skirt.

"I will not kneel," he said warningly, trying to keep the tremor from his voice by using disdain in its place.

Stark moaned. "That's okay," he said, and then his tongue slipped back into Loki's mouth, teasing, before slipping out again. Both hands were on Loki's backside now, cupping and massaging, and he'd always been sensitive to touch, to warm, strong hands kneading him. Stark continued talking, breathy and needy and filthy. "How are you on fucking?" His hands pulled Loki flush against him. "Getting fucked? What do you want? Anything?"

Loki understood all the words - the allspeak took care of that - but he could not make sense of it. Stark was searching to give him pleasure? He thought the man only wanted to take.

In the meantime, Stark was breathing out more words, punctuating them with long, broad licks to Loki's neck, to his bare shoulder.

"What if I just finger you and suck you?" His hands parted Loki from behind, and Loki gasped, his eyes falling shut. "Is that good? Because I think it would be good. I think I can make it good, so good for you," Stark continued babbling, but his head dipped lower, kissing over the fabric on Loki's chest, biting at him through it. His hands slipped from Loki's backside to his front, to frame his leaking hardness. "Actually what I'd like to do right now is just flip up that skirt and suck you off." Stark finally stepped back, his torturous hands no longer teasing Loki's flesh. "Go sit on the couch."

With a gentle nudge Stark maneuvered Loki to the sofa, and with only another tap on his chest he fell back in surprise, sitting comfortably, though dumbly, his legs spread wide.

Stark smirked.

And a moment later he was between Loki's legs, hands strong on his thighs, licking Loki's length and then swallowing it in with an obscene sound and with obvious delight.

Loki felt the sofa dip when Rogers landed next to him. Stark lifted his head.

"Sorry, Steve, where are my manners? Did you want some of that?" He gestured to Loki's manhood as if it was a delectable meal spread before them, smirked again at Rogers' open-mouth grunt, and dove back to wrap his wide, over-talkative mouth around Loki's flesh.

Loki did not feel a pressing need to classify the sounds that escaped his lips over and over again as Stark suckled him and brought him to the edge of pleasure with expertise that should have been too shameful for him to reveal, and that he paraded with great relish.

At least, until he stopped. Loki lifted his head, frustration and rage twisting his features.

"Slide a little forward, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, Stark pulled on his legs, and Loki, limp and pliant with need, went along with it. He was guided down the sofa until his hips were hanging off the edge of it, his legs pushed apart, the tunic pushed all the way up to his waist. Stark had him exposed, open and panting and nervous. He undid his own jeans, groaning with relief as he pushed them down his thighs. His cock sprang free, and Loki looked down at it, flushed and hard, the head plump and dusky. He licked his lips.

"See something you like?" Stark laughed, but the tone wasn't derisive. "Maybe later. I was in the middle of something."

"You were," Loki said accusingly. Stark chuckled again.

"Just trying to make it better," he said casually, and brought something from his pocket. It was a tube; humans kept so many different things in tubes, Loki wouldn't have been able to tell what this was, but he was expecting a flask of oil and so was not surprised when Stark squeezed clear fluid from the tube onto his fingers. Before he made another move, though, Rogers decided to brave the waters. His large hand wrapped around Loki, warm, hesitant and inexperienced, but clear on intent and subtly strong, enough for a moan to escape Loki's lips unheeded.

"May I," he started asking weakly, although his hand was already stroking sure and fast along Loki's flesh, and Loki could only nod. He heard Stark's breathy chuckles, and then the fingers he'd expected touched his opening.

They were warm, and the fluid was slick but not as thick as oil. Stark rubbed against him, teasing, trying to keep pace with Rogers, but then the man's nature got the best of him and he let his fingers slip inside Loki.

Loki tried to convince himself that taking pleasure where it may be is not something to be ashamed of as he whimpered and pushed back against Stark's fingers, silently - but eloquently - begging him for more. And Stark provided; those digits worming inside him, opening the path that had been left untouched for such a long time. Stark's mouth on him again, sucking with verve, three fingers setting a hard pace inside him, Rogers' hand on his chest, on his shoulder, and then hesitantly again on his leg, sliding to his inner thigh where the skin was sensitive and getting raw with Stark's beard. Loki's broken cries, panted through an open mouth, echoed in the room, against the massive windows, up to the high ceiling where Stark's hidden speakers listened quietly as only a machine could. Loki's eyes fixed on a point in the plaster, wondering if Stark's disembodied servant was watching them as well, if it was enjoying the picture Loki's abasement was painting, and then pleasure flooded his body, dark and glittering behind his eyes. His back arched, his left hand fisted in Stark's unruly hair while his right hand grasped Rogers' wrist and didn't let go. He was crying out, he knew that, in some conscious part of his mind, and he felt Stark's mouth still on him, licking him throughout, milking every drop.

When he opened his eyes again, Stark was still leaning over his cock, smirking. His fingers were still inside Loki, muscles fluttering and clenching around them.

"Rah rah our team," he said softly, and although Loki had no idea what exactly he was saying, the smug intent was clear.

Loki wriggled, as if to dislodge him, and Stark yielded, letting his fingers slip free. Loki exhaled at the aching emptiness left behind. He sat up gingerly, smoothing the folds of fabric back on himself. Would now be the time to pay the price? He found that he was looking forward to it. Stark was still kneeling at his feet, grinning expectantly, his cock a very loud exclamation. Rogers' own was hidden in his slacks, but he was as obviously hard and as obviously expecting his turn. Loki wondered what they would demand of him, but he felt no dread, only dark, heady desire and need whispering beneath his skin.

He waited.

"...Are either of you going to tell me what you want to do next?" Stark demanded. He was disgruntled, that was obvious, he was frustrated, and Loki could not understand why, or how, he wasn't simply grabbing what he will, dragging Loki to the ground, tearing the strange Midgardian ceremonial robe off his body. Taking him.

Rogers finally opened his mouth. "I... don't know," he confessed. Loki glanced sideways at him and wondered which one of them is a pawn in this game.

Stark's grin only widened. "I think you might like doing what I think he'd like done," he said suggestively, leering at Loki and wiggling his wet, glistening fingers in a gesture that was absolutely obscene, and sent Loki's insides fluttering, clenching around nothing.

Rogers gave him a quizzical look. Without a word, Loki leaned back again, shifting to find a comfortable spot along the sofa. It was shorter than him, but if he lifted his legs and held on to his knees, there was room enough for Rogers to turn in his seat. He reached for the underwear, still hanging loosely by his knees, and slipped them off, tossing them carelessly over the back of the sofa.

Rogers gasped. He stared at Loki's unashamed openness, at the glistening hole still wide and reddened with Stark's ministrations. Stark, who was currently fisting his own cock lazily, leaning closer to them, and raining small, affectionate, nearly chaste kisses along Loki's leg, from his thigh and up until he had to stand up to kiss along Loki's ankle. He grinned, hand still on his cock, and looked down at Loki. Loki swallowed. This was a position he was expecting; Stark above him, and him open and ready to be used. He shuddered.

And Rogers was kissing him too, along his inner thigh, where his hand caressed before.

Stark was kneeling again, crouching by his head. "If you don't want to, just say the word," he said quietly, seriously. Rogers paused, too. They both waited, and Loki felt sure that if he was to stand up, to leave the room, to declare an ending to this, they would not follow him. They would not force it upon him. He looked down at his own body, stretched before them.

"I do want to," he whispered, afraid that the words would be heard, recorded, remembered, taken and twisted and used against him somehow, in a future he couldn't see yet.

But there was nothing in Stark's grin but kindness and desire, and nothing in Rogers' caress but admiration and shy, hesitant want. Loki nodded again.

Rogers pulled his shirt over his head, undoing his pants and fumbling to push them down his thighs. Loki watched him, smiling complacently, amused, but he swallowed deep in his throat when the captain's underwear were finally off. There was nothing amusing there. He glanced at Stark, and Rogers positioned himself, kneeling between his legs.

"No, wait, condom," Stark suddenly put a restraining hand on Rogers' arm, halting him, and Loki tried to tell himself he didn't whine. "Condom, Steve, trust me," Stark continued, fishing something small and shiny from his pocket.

Rogers stared at it for a moment. "Why do you have that?"

"Same as with the lube. I'm hopeful." Stark smirked. "Also I have them stocked behind the bar, what did you think?"

"Oh," the captain said weakly, "that's actually pretty good thinking."

"Yeah, I know," Stark said bluntly, "it's _my_ thinking. Here, let me help." He tore the wrapper and slid the thin sheath, glistening and oily, over Rogers' thick cock. The man moaned under Stark's skillful fingers, and Loki could empathize.

Rogers, protected by this strange rubber membrane between them, moved against Loki again, positioning himself and then pausing, hesitating. Loki keened deep in his throat and pulled his knees back, closer to his chest. His eyes were green fire, demanding that his will be fulfilled.

"Come on, Steve," Stark whispered. "Fuck him for me."

Loki never knew if the words were what caused the man to startle, or if they were what encouraged him to finally hold himself against the small opening to his body and push in. It was a little harder than Loki had expected, a little rougher, too fast, but Stark had prepared him well and he was aching for it, wanting it, and opening up with little resistance. The large body over his shuddered, the captain's eyes shut tight. He held his weight on his arms, careful not to press or burden Loki, and the effort was causing a light sweat to sheen on his body.

"Go slow," Stark advised, and Loki, thankful, kept his eyes open to see him caressing along Rogers' back, tracing the contour of his muscles. He pressed his legs to the sides of Rogers' body, and received another kiss on his ankle for his troubles. Rogers, in the meantime, was fully inside him, large and unyielding. Loki took a deep breath and tried to summon the concentration that had helped him so in his studies of magic. It helped him again, relaxing his muscles, allowing him to open even further, take Rogers into him even deeper.

"Oh my God," Rogers said in a small voice, and then he was pulling slightly out and moving back in again, in subtle, slow movements, barely thrusting at all. Loki relaxed into the rhythm, and Rogers kissed his chest, his pink nipples, down his ribcage. Stark in the meantime found his mouth again, kissing him deep and dirty until Loki couldn't help it; he slammed his hips up, urging Rogers on.

The captain stopped. Loki felt anger begin to rise within him. Rogers looked concerned, but he had to have known Loki was no fragile maiden, they had fought each other, he had to know he could give him more than that.

"Loki?" Stark asked, his eyes searching Loki's face.

He would not beg. He would not lower himself to spell out the things he wanted, needed, he would not demand to be taken harder, to be used, he would not beg for it.

But Stark was waiting, and so was Rogers, an agony on his face, a tremor in the muscles of his arms, holding him up and unmoving.

"Yes," Loki said, and he hoped his meaning was clear behind that one single word. Behind his pride.

Rogers started moving again, slow and careful and torturous. Loki's fingers clutched the sofa's cushions, clawing into the upholstery.

Stark noticed. With a smile, he leaned over and brushed his knuckles against Loki's jaw, a gesture of tenderness that surprised Loki, nearly distracting him. Stark reached between the two men and grasped Loki's cock lightly, forming a loose fist around it. He smirked at Loki, but his next words were aimed at Rogers.

"Fuck him hard, Steve," he said quietly. "Just give it to him with all you've got." His grin turned nearly evil. "Cap'n," he added.

Steve froze for a moment, a heartbeat, barely enough for Loki to draw a breath, and then he pulled out, as slow as before, but a much longer drag of his cock against all of Loki's sensitive nerve endings, tingling and sparking inside him and wanting more.

And when Steve pushed back inside, Loki got all he had asked for, and then some. Hard, deep thrusts, fast and furious, pushing his cock into Stark's fist, Rogers biting his lips and pistoning into Loki's body, and Loki turned his head to Stark's hand on his cheek and bit deep into the soft flesh.

Stark swore, snatching his hand away from the sharp, white teeth, and backhanded Loki across the face before bringing his hand to his own mouth and suckling on the bruised area with a grimace.

And Loki mewled. He couldn't deny it, he didn't want to, he only wanted more, more of Steve inside him, more of that sharp sting of humiliation sending him spiraling into a mind frame where the cacophony in his head became so clamorous it was almost like silence again, all the voices combined into one long, thin wail.

Steve nearly stopped again but Loki's vicious kicking to his sides discouraged the thought, spurred him on. He bent Loki almost in half, giving him sharp, hard thrusts that made him howl, begging now, repeating that one word he'd allowed himself over and over again, _yes, yes, yes, yessss._

And Tony's hand was on his jaw again, forcing it open, pushing two fingers into his mouth, against his tongue - was it the same hand that explored inside his body, or the other? Loki wondered briefly and knew he didn't care. He sucked on Tony's hand, muffling his own shameful cries in the flesh, and tried not to sink his teeth into bone. He swallowed around the fingers again and again, but they didn't go very far, didn't reach his throat, didn't fill his mouth.

Stark clambered on the sofa, sitting by his head. "I'll let you have something," he breathed, loosely fitting his own cock in his hand, "if you promise not to bite."

Pride battled a losing, brief fight before it was conquered and vanquished. "Yes, please," Loki whispered, his face hot, his eyes half-closed so he wouldn't have to meet Stark's eyes.

But he opened his eyes again when Stark knelt over his chest, knees wide, and threw instructions over his shoulder that made the other man lift his hips up, angle him and shift him as if he were a rag doll, and the angle was tighter now, the thrusts harder, and Loki opened his mouth to Stark.

He had a rich taste to him, something dark and heady, salty and bitter with a tang, and Loki craved it. He let Stark aim his cock into his mouth, past his lips, but Stark made no other motion to force it any deeper, and so Loki opened his mouth wider, swallowed around the thick head, tried to coax it further in. Stark moaned deeply and finally leaned forward, pushing more of his cock into Loki's throat. He was trying to be gentle; but Loki was greedy, wanting too much, too far and too soon. Tears stung in his eyes when the air was squeezed from his lungs, body filled to capacity and rocking back and forth. And yet, he wanted more. He reached for Stark and pulled him in, his fingers digging into the man's thighs, the swell of his buttocks. Tony moaned and flexed on top of him, and Loki swallowed convulsively around him again and again. Behind Stark's head he could see Rogers, smiling at him deliriously, his hair mussed for the first time in Loki's memory. His blue eyes were radiant with pleasure. Above him, Stark moaned again, and reached to cup his jaw.

"Listen, sorry about before," he started softly.

Loki tried to urgently dismiss the tenderness, but he could only moan around the thick flesh in his mouth. Instead he shook his head very slightly, not letting Tony's cock slip from between his lips. Tony grinned.

"Was that a Don't-worry-about-it?" he inquired.

Loki nodded minutely, still not letting go, and sucked vigorously.

Stark bent over him. "Or was that a Do-it-again-please?" he whispered.

Loki groaned deep in his throat, and his eyes fluttered shut.

A moment later Stark's hand connected with his cheek again, and Rogers' rhythm faltered.

"What are you..."

"Don't worry," Stark said over his shoulder, "he likes it. Right?"

Loki grumbled, irritated, around the cock in his mouth. Rogers still hadn't returned to fucking him. He saw concern on the man's open, expressive face.

"Thumbs up if you wanted to be slapped," Tony said casually.

Loki extended his two thumbs in a gesture he'd seen the others perform. Tony grinned over his shoulder, and after a moment's hesitation, Rogers shoved back into Loki, a little more hesitantly.

Tony smirked, eyes twinkling down, boring into Loki's own. "Thumbs up if you wanted to get slapped like a little bitch because you've been a bad, bad boy," he said casually.

Loki shuddered all over, a tingle from his toes to the top of his head. Then he wracked his brains for the right reply, and lifted a single digit. The middle one.

Tony laughed. "He's a fast learner. We'll make a New Yorker out of you yet," he said with some effort. Loki knew he was getting close; the scent changed minutely, and despite his attempts at chivalry, Tony was giving stuttered, aborted little thrusts into his mouth. He swallowed hard, his tongue pressing against the soft, salty skin and the hard length under it.

Tony bent over him again, clutching at the sofa on both sides of his head, resting his weight on his arms. Loki pulled him in, spreading his legs at the same time, letting Rogers fuck him harder. A moment later he felt the hot, bitter taste of come down his throat, coating his tongue.

Stark pulled out, grinning dazedly. "Wow," he mumbled.

Loki wanted to say something scathing, but his throat was sore, and the air was still driven out of him in short gasps, Rogers pounding away between his legs. He was hard again, too, nerves like live wire, burning for Tony's words and his hand.

The grinning man - who brought about all this - climbed off of him, settling by the foot of the sofa for the moment, catching his breath. He looked up at the other two, incredibly smug.

"I can't believe you're still wearing that cheerleader dress," he remarked. And it was true; the garment was rucked up around Loki's chest, under his arms. He wriggled, pulling it over his head and tossing it away, forcing Steve to break rhythm.

The super soldier looked up from where he was concentrated on the sight of Loki's jutting cock, looking guilty. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, anxious.

"No," Loki replied, barely finding his voice in his raspy, dry throat, "but I..."

"I'll get you water," Tony said, stumbling to his feet. "Anything else?"

Loki hesitated. "I want it... different, now," he said uncertainly. It was beyond awkward to ask. Steve was already pulling out.

"Sure thing," Stark called from the bar. "What kind of different?"

He returned with the bottle, and Loki drank deep and long, feeling some of his strength returning. He pushed Steve off him gently, careful not to dislodge the other man off the couch, and then turned over to lie on his stomach. He glanced over his shoulder.

Steve stared at him.

"You both have amazing asses," Tony pronounced. "Just in case either of you didn't know."

Loki chuckled. Steve smiled too, and touched the curve of Loki's buttocks, tracing it. Loki shuddered with pleasure.

"Can I still be a part of this?" Tony asked, snatching the bottle away and emptying it. Loki glanced down at the mortal's softening cock, and then up with a question. "Yeah, I'm probably done for the night," Tony said languidly, gesturing shamelessly at the organ in question, "but I still think I can be of use. Give you a hand," he winced, "I can't believe I just said that. It's a cheap pun. I can do better, I swear. Maybe just not during sex."

He walked around the sofa. Steve was sliding slowly, almost thoughtfully, up and down Loki's slick backside, the skin and lube and sweat giving him a nice, wet playground to glide on. Loki whimpered deep in his throat.

"Yeah, I wanna be under you," Stark said, his voice low and throaty. "I wanna see your face when you come with Steve's dick up your ass."

Loki's mouth fell open, and so did his legs. Steve froze over him, and then groaned heartily. "Come on," he said, and bumped his cock against Loki's glistening ass twice, three times. "Get under him, then."

Loki moved to lean on his elbows; Steve sat back on his haunches. Tony sprawled on the sofa, pulling Loki on top of him, and a moment later Steve joined, his cock nudging, searching Loki's opening, and then sliding right back in again.

It was good. It was so good lying on his stomach, his cock slippery against Stark's belly, Rogers big and hard inside him, hitting all the parts he couldn't with Loki on his back. Every other thrust Loki rose a little on his knees, pushing back, and even though Stark was right under him, eyes trained on his face, Loki didn't hold back. He whined and winced and bit his lips, he swore and he licked Stark's lips, licked the stubble around the well-groomed beard, licked the prominent veins on his chest, licked around the metal edges of the device buried in his heart, and then kissed the top of it, where glowing light and distinct warmth and the faint hum of electricity all tingled against his lips. Rogers' hands were large on his hips, Stark's hands large on his flanks, and Loki moved between them, releasing little cries and deep groans and not caring who could hear him.

"Steve," Tony said idly, casual tone so affected it was almost real, "just tell me, are you holding back?"

"I'm giving it to him hard, like you said," Steve panted, and the words were shocking on his lips and yet so matter-of-fact. Loki pushed back hard, sudden, impaling himself on Steve's cock and then grinning maniacally at Tony beneath him.

"No, I mean," Stark continued, "are you holding back from coming?"

Loki frowned. It hadn't occurred to him that anyone would do such a thing. The stutter in the rhythm told him there may have been truth in Stark's words. He glanced backwards questioningly.

Steve's face was red. "I can probably go on for... maybe hours," he said, and Loki groaned, his eyes falling shut. "I mean, I thought that it's good."

"It is," Loki breathed, just as Stark was saying, "Yeah, but..."

They both paused and stared at each other.

"Seriously? Hours?" Stark finally said, a little smirk crooking the corner of his mouth.

Loki nodded, letting his head fall against Stark's chest.

"Do you plan on, like, sitting any time in the foreseeable future?" Stark continued the casual conversation. Loki grinned and rubbed his cock wetly against Tony's.

"Or I could let go in, say, five minutes or less," Steve said, in a rather strained tone of voice.

Loki smiled like a snake. "I would be more than pleased," he murmured, eyes twinkling at Tony's.

"Yeah. You got to go twice, don't be greedy," Tony said, laughing softly. "Come on, Steve. Let go. You already fucked him raw, now just come all over him."

Loki groaned and sank his teeth into Tony's shoulder. Steve started fucking him in earnest again at the same moment that Tony cursed and pulled him back by his hair, sending a sharp stinging pain in his scalp and a pleasant, hard throb into his cock.

The frenzied rhythm lasted, as Steve had predicted, a few more minutes, during which Tony spoke constantly and filthily to both of them, encouraging, goading, whispering and lilting and suggesting all kinds of dirty things they could do to each other tomorrow, if Loki was willing, if Steve was interested. Loki came again to one of those promises, crying out and spilling on Tony's abdomen and his chest. Steve was not far behind him, pulling out and stripping the condom off, as per Tony's suggestion, to mark Loki's creamy-white backside with his own addition. They collapsed on each other, Steve breathless atop Loki, who was not even making the effort of holding his weight off Tony. The sofa's cushions were sinking under them.

The television screen was dark. JARVIS must've taken care of that. Steve reached over and dropped the condom on the coffee table, unable to move any further. Loki stretched languidly between the two strong, warm bodies, so different and yet both warrior bodies; Stark marked with scars and machine, Rogers as smooth and untouched as an Asgardian, both capable, powerful bodies. He was covered with their sweat, spit, and come, and he was grinning. The artificial breeze whispered across his skin, cooling it. They two men may have been his enemies, but he was never as comfortable as he was now, squeezed tight between them, sensing their heartbeat, their rapid breath slowing. Stark was caressing his hair, pushing it away from his face. Rogers was kissing the back of his neck so gently that Loki nearly purred with it.

"Right, so," Tony said after a while, shifting under Loki. "I actually have all kinds of outfits and fetish gear lying around the place."

Loki smirked. Steve exhaled, obviously considering the possibilities. Then something occurred to the Asgardian. "Why was this tunic in my colours?" he inquired.

Tony smirked and licked his lips lazily. His hand drifted down to Loki's backside, giving it a light tap. "Let's just say that dress was a recent addition, inspired by recent interests," he said, and Loki felt the warm puff of silent laughter against his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> editing to fix some typos


End file.
